Two Kisses
by ExquisitelyInked
Summary: Two kisses don't make a relationship. But maybe, for Draco, two kisses are enough.


Title: Two Kisses

By: AtobeLover

Summary: Two kisses don't make a relationship. But maybe, for Draco, two kisses are enough.

Rated: T

Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, do you really think Malfoy and Harry would be enemies? No. So – I don't own Harry Potter, duh.

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**Note: Tweaked the storyline a bit. First Harry Potter fic. Review and give love, please. Ignores everything after GOF, so yeah. I'm sorry if you find it a bit OOC. I swear, only a tiny bit OOC. (Draco and Harry cry a lot, so…)**

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He shut out everything. The world shouting around him, the voices of Professor Dumbledore and Professor Moody and the grieving wails of Amos Diggory as he screamed the return of Voldemort and cried over his dead competitor and friend, Cedric's sightless eyes staring into the starry sky overhead as Harry clung to his body, not willing to let go, not willing to accept the truth—Cedric was gone and Voldemort was back.

Harry's tears soaked into Cedric's T-shirt. Suddenly a strong hand wrapped around his chest, dragging him backward, dragging him away from the lifeless body of one of the best people he could ever have met. He screamed, struggling to get away, fighting to get back and hold onto Cedric a bit more, try and get Cedric _back, _back to his laughing, brave self; the arm was joined by another and a voice hissed coldly into his ear— 'You're losing yourself. Stop crying.'

'Malfoy,' Harry said, tears streaming down his face in spite of the surprised expression on his face. Indeed it was the pale white-blond boy who was hauling him away from the commotion in the Quidditch ground. Harry's eyes went back to the scene once more and Cedric's face, expressionless, calm face was the last glimpse he ever got of Cedric. Crabbe and Goyle were nowhere to be seen and Malfoy shoved him against a wall in the corridor which led to the ground. Harry slid down, tears still falling, but the sobs had gone. He tried to push everything out of his mind. Everything that had happened that night up to now.

Malfoy sank to his knees in front of Harry. 'Stop crying,' he repeated scornfully, reaching out and wiping away the tears. In spite of everything, Harry was shocked. 'You…' he whispered. 'It's _you_, here, right now, wiping away my tears. Who are you? What have you done to Draco bloody Malfoy?'

Malfoy didn't reply, but a faint smile haunted his lips before it vanished. 'What have they done to you?' He murmured, taking in the sight of Harry's bloodied arm, the gash still bleeding, but a little less than before.

'You hate me,' Harry choked out. 'You hate me, but here you are, trying to care. I hate you, Malfoy, so _why do you care?_'

'Little late for that realization,' Draco noted with a fair amount of disdain before he sidled a little closer, between the knees Harry had drawn up to his chest.

And then he leant in and kissed Harry. He kissed him like he'd never kissed anyone before—trying to make him forget that the creator of the scar on his forehead had just returned like anyone's worst nightmare. His hand cupped Harry's cheek, pulling him a bit closer, kissing him a bit deeper.

Harry's eyes half-closed. Brilliant green, shadowed by the round glasses suddenly dulled a bit as he lost himself in the most amazing kiss he had ever gotten. Then a thought flashed past his mind—_it's Draco Malfoy you're kissing_—before he came to his senses and roughly shoved Malfoy away. 'What the fuck are you getting at?' He screamed. 'What are you bloody doing? Fuck you—I hate you, Malfoy, and you hate me too, so _why the fuck did you just kiss me?_'

Draco didn't answer, opting instead to stare at the dazzling light in Harry's eyes.

There was a loud smatter of footsteps and Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape and Moody's outstretched wands greeted the both of them. 'What are you doing here, Mr Malfoy?' Snape asked curtly. Draco's eyes slid from Harry's bottle green to Snape's coal black and he replied, 'I just dragged him away because I wanted to know what had happened.' He inwardly winced at the patheity of the excuse but didn't amend it.

'But, Mr Malfoy, how could you remove him from the presence of our headmaster?' McGonagall exclaimed, astonished. 'Something bad or fatal could very well have happened to Mr Potter! Fifty points from Slytherin for endangering another student!' Draco's eyes widened. What the bloody hell—

'I'm sorry, Professor,' said a quiet voice from the floor. Harry got up and dusted himself off. McGonagall's eyes fell on the cut on his arm. 'Why, Mr Potter! We must hurry you to the hospital wing—you're hurt!' Dumbledore said, 'Mr Potter, if you please.'

Then Harry and the teachers walked away, inside the castle, and Draco was left to watch. Harry's tears had ended; his had only just started.

That was the first time he kissed Harry Potter.

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It was Christmas and almost everyone in school was going home. Umbridge had decided to lock herself up in her horrid little office and Filch prowled the castle as ever, but no one was there that he could drag to Umbridge so he gave up, finally starting work on that Kwikspell course from three years back.

Draco Malfoy had stayed back from Slytherin, along with a dozen or so third and first years. No one older to him or the same age had stayed back. He didn't know anything about the other houses, and didn't care.

When the train for the home-goers was loading he had nothing to do so he accompanied Crabbe, Goyle, and Parkinson and their much too large trunks to the train. There, as Pansy tried to kiss him goodbye Draco noticed something that suddenly made his day better.

Harry Potter waving goodbye to his friends without a trunk beside him.

Draco's eyes skimmed to the grin on his face, and he impulsively smiled too.

As he walked back, alone, to the castle, he was lost in thought. Back to the day in Madam Malkin's where he had talked to a boy who had absolutely no familiarity with the four Hogwarts houses, or Quidditch. Something contentedly warm erupted inside him as he thought back to the kiss. Potter had almost been kissing him back. He _had_ to believe it. It was his only hope that he could make Harry Potter his.

He agreed with a small part of his mind that he and Potter were adversaries, and he shouldn't be in love with a guy, much less his arch rival but love was blind, and love had made Draco blind. It was somewhere during the commencement of their third year that Draco had noticed his growing distress for Harry. He had heard from somewhere that Potter had fainted because of the dementor that had swooped upon the Hogwarts train and he had been very much taken aback and vexed to find no ridicule arising in him, but instead thoughts of how Potter must be feeling right now. He had been egged on by his friends to perform the sick imitations, and he found some solace that the old Draco was still in him, that enjoyed the acts, enjoyed poking fun at Potter while the most part of his new self reacted negatively.

He still behaved hatefully with Potter, insulting his friends, family, friends' family on a regular basis but he did it without enthusiasm. Potter still told him to bugger off and he still figuratively slapped Potter in the face, commenting on the weasel's financial status and the know-it-all's blood purity.

He sighed, the breath misting in the cold weather. When had he forgotten the ways, customs and traditions of a Malfoy?

'Hey,' someone said quietly beside him. Draco looked up in surprise to see Harry. He choked. 'What the hell are you doing, walking beside me?'

'Walking beside you like you just said, I guess,' Harry replied, smiling slightly. Draco didn't say anything, so Potter said something again: 'You never really answered my question from last year, you know. I'm here for the answer.'

'What question?' But Draco already knew.

'Why did you kiss me that day? After … Cedric, you know… was murdered? You hate me, I hate you, but you kissed me.'

'Things happen, Potter. Without rhyme or reason. I wouldn't expect you or your riffraff friends to know. Much less that giant oaf we call fucking gamekeeper.'

That sparked the expected feedback. 'What about those two humongous, fat lumps of meat you call friends?'

'Crabbe and Goyle? They're not my friends,' Draco snorted contemptuously. 'They just like following me around, seeing as I'm much better at studies than your filthy little Mudblood bit—'

'Shut the fuck up about my friends,' Potter snarled. His wand was out, and a fierce fury shone in his eyes like fire. Draco said nothing. Potter continued, 'If you should know, a few days ago, I kissed Cho Chang. I bet even that pig Parkinson shies away from your mouth.'

And a great, very sharp knife tore through Draco's heart. The breath flew out of him in one short gasp and he felt like he was going to die any minute. There was an excruciating pulsation in his chest and his vision was going blurry. Cho Chang? Diggory's ex-girlfriend? Draco was_ so _much better than _Cho freaking Chang_.

'I don't know what you want with me, Malfoy, but I hope you die,' he said, before moving on and leaving Draco behind.

It was a good fifteen minutes later that Malfoy could move and wipe his face of all the tears. He ran for his life toward the castle, hoping to see any glance of the black jeans or soft grey turtleneck Harry had been wearing. He ran, searching the whole school before he found Harry in the seventh floor corridor, walking.

'So,' Draco called, tears once again blotting his sight as he ran toward Harry, who had finally noticed him. He took hold of a fistful of the grey fabric and pinned Potter to the wall, stepping close. 'Malfoy, what the fuck—'

'Is she a better kisser than I am?'

'—are you doing?' Harry interjected before he realized the question asked to him. 'Who? Cho?' Draco repeated the question. 'Is she better than me?'

Harry didn't say anything, and Draco thought that it was happening a lot with both of them as he leant forward and covered Harry's mouth with his own, kissing him violently. His tears started to fall again as he knocked Harry's wand out of his hand and kissed him long and hard.

He pulled away. 'You don't love me,' he whispered brokenly. 'I haven't hated you for two fucking years, Potter, maybe you'd think the kiss in our fourth year might be _some_ indication.'

He started to walk away, trying to memorize the feel of his lips on Harry's, when suddenly a hand grabbed his.

'I don't, but I can try,' Harry said softly, eyes never leaving Draco's grey ones, not for even a second.

'You'll just have to wait a bit longer.' Harry entwined his fingers with Draco's.

If Draco took two seconds resuming his place in front of Harry it would be too long.

%%%Fin%%%

**I'd really like it if you reviewed, you know. I would. I would, so bad.**


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